


Sansa Blue Eyes

by Salamander_85



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander_85/pseuds/Salamander_85
Summary: Jon and Sansa meet for lunch. It's been ten years.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	Sansa Blue Eyes

-JON-

Whiskey glass in hand, Jon looked down at his phone. 1:12pm. She was late. She was never late. And she hadn’t called or texted to say why. Finally giving into his curiosity, he typed out a quick text. _Are we still meeting for lunch?_

The restaurant hummed with life, the low conversations of diners harmonizing with the sound of an open kitchen and a wait staff still busy with a lunch crowd. It wasn’t that he was annoyed to be waiting, shit comes up, but he was concerned. Rhae usually arrived first. And today, not only had he been running three minutes behind, but the hostess had shown him to an empty table. And here he was, seated at a table for two, with a drink in hand. Clearly waiting. Fine, maybe he was slightly annoyed.

Setting down his drink, he gave a small wave to the young man who had stopped by his table earlier. “I’d like to go ahead and order if that’s alright.” With a quick nod and smile from his waiter, Jon continued. “I’d like two house salads, a plate of the stuffed grape leaves, and the lamb and dragon pepper flatbread.”

After confirming the order and watching the waiter return to the kitchen, Jon glanced again at his phone. No reply text. He frowned. This was so unlike her. Swiping to unlock his phone, he tapped her number to dial, and then picked up his phone. He hated holding a phone during a conversation. He preferred putting himself on speaker, but inside a restaurant, to do so would be impolite.

“Mr. Targaryen, Jon Targaryen?” A soft but firm voice drew his attention away from his thoughts and the phone call. He set his phone down and hit the end button.

Jon looked up and noticed the same hostess who had shown him to his table when he’d arrived. She was with a woman. A woman who was looking at him and holding out a hand as if to confirm he was indeed Jon Targaryen. He glanced at her, back at the hostess, and then frowned in confusion.

“I’m afraid there has been a mix-up.” Jon began to say to the hostess. He looked back to the woman, _she’s quite beautiful_ , and watched as she gracefully dropped her hand, set down her bag, and removed her coat. _What is she doing?_ She pulled out the chair opposite of him, settled in, as if there was nothing amiss. _Who are you lady? Are you crazy?_

“Oh! I’m so sorry. She said she was here under the reservation for Rhaenys Targaryen?” The hostess blushed, looking nervously at the strange woman who had made herself comfortable at his table. In the seat reserved for his sister.

“I did. Rhaenys asked me to meet you for lunch. She told me she’d set the reservation under her name. I’m so sorry I’m late Jon.” The woman, _the astonishingly beautiful woman, dammit Jon, don’t reduce her to her looks_ , offered an explanation to the hostess. She said it with a hint of an apology, or was it bemusement? She continued on, focusing her attention on him. “I’m rarely in the city this time of the year, and I fancied a stroll through the park. I thought I could make it here on time, but I miscalculated with these heels.” Her smile was blinding, but he could swear he saw mirth in her eyes.

Jon struggled to pull his eyes away from the woman who sat across from him, but he saw the hostess still waiting, wondering if she needed to step in. He looked to her, “Uh, I’m sorry about the confusion. It’s… it’s alright.” He nodded to the hostess, giving her permission to leave them be. He could handle this situation, and he would do so without an audience.

“I’m sorry… who, who are you?” He questioned, his voice low and a touch sharp. Indignant. He could feel his annoyance begin to rise. Jon looked at the woman more fully now that the hostess had left them to their date. _Was that what this is? A lunch with a stranger? Had Rhae set him up on a blind date? He was going to fucking kill her. Not this strange beautiful woman, no, his sister. If she wanted to set him up with a friend, all she had to do was ask. But to blindside him? Yes, she had overstepped. Fucking Rhae._

The woman smiled, reached for her glass of water, and took a small sip. She had beautiful porcelain skin and striking copper hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, low knot at the back of her neck _. I wonder what it looks like down?_ She was dressed in all black, _my favorite color_ , and she wore gold jewelry. She looked like she had walked straight off the cover of a fashion magazine. _Or straight out of my dreams_.

She considered her answer, avoiding his eyes and focused her gaze over his shoulder. _Not a hard question crazy lady. Who are you?_

“Your sister, Rhaenys, asked me to meet you. She said that she has a standing lunch date with you every Thursday. She thought we might enjoy this restaurant.” She picked up her menu, “Have you been here before, Jon? Is the food good?” She glanced over the menu before looking back at him. “The last time I was in King’s Landing the Martell’s had just bought this space and were in the process of renovating.”

_Why are you avoiding my question?_ Jon thought to himself.

Setting down the menu, she paused to look around the restaurant. There were colorful painted tiles on the walls, sleek new fixtures, and lots of indoor greenery. Behind their table was a large wall of glass. During the day it remained closed, but at night, the doors were opened and the patrons could enjoy the large balcony overlooking the city and water. Daytime or at night, the view was incredible. Jon watched her take it all in.

_She looks familiar. She feels familiar. Have I met her before? No- I would definitely remember if we had met. But why does she seem familiar? Seven hells, she has incredible eyes._

She let out a soft sigh. He hadn’t answered her questions. To be fair, she hadn’t answered his.

“I’m Sansa.”

Jon blinked. _Sansa? The name sounded familiar. Think Jon.... Think! Her name is Sansa; she has incredible blue eyes...Wait! … Fucking no! No, no, no! She has red hair. No- I thought she had dark brown hair. There is no way Rhae would know. Absolutely no fucking way._

“And you’re Jon,” Sansa added kindly “… And it looks like you’ve already ordered.” 

The waiter stopped at their table. He had brought their starters. Two salads and a plate of stuffed grape leaves. The young man turned to the woman, _to Sansa_ , and asked if she cared for a drink other than water. She smiled and shook her head no, only to stop and ask if he might return with a few extra lemon slices for her glass.

_It’s lunch. Just lunch, Jon. You can do this. Damn you Rhae._

* * *

_She doesn’t remember me. It’s been ten years. Why should she remember me?_

“I’m sorry. I thought I was having lunch with Rhaenys. Once I saw she was going to be late, I went ahead and ordered. We’ve dined here before, and I know what my sister prefers when it comes to Dornish food. If this isn’t to your liking, please, feel free to order something different,” Jon explained.

Sansa shook her head, “No, this looks wonderful. I don’t often eat Dornish cuisine, so I’ll defer to someone who knows more than me.” She took another quick sip of water.

_Is she nervous?_

“Sansa… “ Jon asked slowly. “Did my sister say why she wanted us to meet? Or is this some surprise blind date?”

Sansa’s eyes quickly darted to his. Jon could feel his heart squeeze tight. It was a familiar feeling. But a feeling he hadn’t felt in some time.

He noticed a light blush rosy her cheeks. _She’s lovely. Why did I never ask her for a date?_

“She wants to hire me. But before she would do so, she thought we should meet. Chat.” Sansa offered.

Jon arched an eyebrow, “Rhae is free to hire whoever she pleases. I’m not sure why she needs my approval.”

“I … I’m a consultant. I believe she wants to hire me on behalf of the family,” Sansa carefully stated. Again with another blush.

At this Jon frowned. _On behalf of the family? Exactly what sort of work would necessitate Rhae arranging a set up for him to meet Sansa Stark? He couldn’t recall a discussion that might merit secrecy or stealth. What exactly does Sansa do? Do I know?_

He watched as she picked at her salad. The conversation so far had been vague. But Sansa said Rhae asked that they meet, talk- something about work, about family.

“Well, you’re here. I’m here. The food is here. What shall we discuss? ” Jon picked up his fork and began to eat. Perhaps if he ate and she talked he could take control of his thoughts. Thoughts that were wildly spiraling into the darker crevices of his mind. Gods, he was not a young man any longer. Desire and want did not control him. _Get a hold of yourself Jon._

Sansa visibly relaxed and then offered another blinding smile. 

“Tell me about yourself Jon. I want to know about you. Everything. Who is Jon Targaryen? And what does he want?”

**Author's Note:**

> A happy, fluffy Jonsa story for Valentines Day 2020.


End file.
